Tangled: A New Adult Romance Boxed Set (12 Book Bundle of Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Royalty)

by Lakes, Krista

  This isn't right, I thought desperately, why would she be so scared? I was sure things were getting more serious, is that the problem?

  Thinking about her reaction, her rejection of my offer, I tried to rationalize it. Working my brain over, I came to a few conclusions, but none of them left me confident in the situation. It wasn't until we pulled in front of Vanessa's place, Leah hugging her laptop close, that I felt sure enough to push forward with one of my worries.

  “Leah,” I began, my voice fragile, wobbling. She sensed it, I could tell, her eyes glimmering in the darkness of the car. “Where do you see this going?”

  “What—what do you mean?”

  “Us,” I explained, shifting to stare straight at her. Her skin was pale, porcelain that could crack any second. “Do you not think enough of our relationship to want to meet my family?”

  Her mouth fell open, lips promising words, but giving none. I had nothing else to add, hands tight on the wheel, squeezing so hard my knuckles drained of blood as I waited for her to speak. I refused to say anything else, this had to be on her.

  Leah reached across the seat, placing a trembling palm on my shoulder. “Deacon, I just need time to think. Okay?”

  My neck was solid steel, still, I forced myself to nod. What other option did I have?

  She said nothing else, though she seemed ready to. In the end, her laptop clutched protectively, Leah slid from my car, vanishing up the walkway. Once, before she rounded the corner, she cast a look back at me that was strangely bleak.

  Alone, I sat there in silence, staring at my fingers yet seeing nothing.

  What's wrong with me? Did I mess up somewhere?

  Clenching my eyes shut, so tight my temples throbbed, my forehead fell against the wheel solidly. The contact hurt, almost welcome when compared to how my gut was roiling, sharp and sour. It reminded me of the wine, the seed of doubt growing ever bigger. Yes, I must have misread everything. This wouldn't be the first time.

  Morose, I left that place with my engine rumbling in my head. I'd agreed to give Leah time to think about her answer, but in my heart, I felt sure I knew what it would be.

  ****

  My phone rang, and rang, and rang. Groggy, I fumbled for it in the dark of my room, partially asleep when I grabbed it finally. So tired, I expected it to be Leah when I answered, forgetting in my haze that she didn't have a phone still. “Hello?” I slurred, yawning.

  “Deacon?”

  That sharp panic, it belonged to Vanessa. In a rush, I sat up, coming awake with startling clarity as my intuition warned me something was wrong. “What is it, what's up?”

  “It's... Leah.”

  Oh god, Leah!

  Stumbling, tossing off my blankets, I jumped to my feet, slamming into my desk in the dark room. Ignoring the pain, I pulled open the curtains, illuminating everything in the light of the early morning. I didn't bother trying to hide my worry. “Vanessa, what happened, tell me what's going on.”

  “I don't really know, is the thing. I'm freaking out, I mean—like, five minutes ago or something, someone knocked on my door. It was someone looking for Leah.”

  My skin was cold, clammy, everything sticky with my unease. “Who was it?” I had a sickening feeling I knew.

  “Did she ever tell you about her ex?”

  “I'm coming over right now, stay there with her, Vanessa!”

  “That's why I'm calling,” she groaned, getting more high pitched as she went on. “I had to leave, I can't miss work, I'm heading there right now. But I'm worried, it's weird that he's here, I'm pretty sure Leah didn't ask him to come all the way to California. Can you go there, can you check in on her?”

  “I'm going right now,” I said grimly, dropping my phone on the mattress.

  Shoving myself into some clothes, I didn't even bother to pay attention to what I put on. It didn't matter, nothing mattered but getting over to Vanessa's place.

  Leah was in danger, I could feel it.

  Stomping towards the stairs, I couldn't say if I had actually touched them at all, I felt like I had flown to the bottom. The door slammed open from my yank, hitting the inner wall, remaining that way when I didn't turn back. Internally, I debated if it was faster to drive, or to run. Ultimately, I got in my car, tearing down the street, acrid rubber filling the air.

  Leah, be okay, please be okay.

  It was impossible to explain why I thought she was in danger. I knew her ex had, apparently, only gotten physical enough to harm her once. Yet, somehow, there was something so disturbing about him showing up at her door. It reeked of something insidious, I couldn't risk being calm.

  If I'm wrong, then all I did was race over, nothing is lost. If I'm right, though...

  I crushed the gas pedal down, hard.

  Peeling to a stop in front of Vanessa's apartment, I pushed myself from the car, stomping up the stone walkway, my breath rasping in my ears. As I approached the front door, I didn't know what I expected to hear; yelling, screaming maybe? My brain worked in overdrive.

  With my hand gripping the knob, I caught the slightest of sounds. One voice, talking low, seething with emotion, and a strange whistling noise that made my skin crawl. Ripping the door open, my eyes fell on the scene before me, a vision far worse than I had pictured.

  It would no doubt haunt me for some time.

  He was sitting on top of her, I could hardly see her body. Owen's hands, for that had to be him, were coiled around the throat of the woman I wanted nothing more than to keep safe. But she wasn't safe, he was choking her, killing her before my very eyes.

  No, no no no!

  I didn't recall moving, my instinct just carried me forward. He looked up, sensing me just before my fist came down, not fast enough to react. My knuckles slammed into the side of his face, pushing him sideways, forcing him to let go of her neck.

  It was the first time I had ever hit another person in my life.

  Leah wheezed for air, hacking, coughing while she lay there. Owen turned back to me, staring up with an expression that was pure shock and disbelief. “Who the hell are you?” He asked, touching the side of his head. My hand ached from the contact, that didn't stop me from punching him straight in the jaw.

  “Get off of her!” I shouted, grabbing him by the shirt, yanking him away from Leah. His weight pulled me down, thick muscles tensing as he tried to grapple me, to hold me still.

  Owen growled, revealing himself as a man not willing to back down so easily. His elbow hit me in the ribs, eliciting a grunt, those meaty hands reaching to shove me again. I felt him grip for my hair, my eyes, so I jammed my knee hard, grinding it into his stomach. It was enough to push him away, watching me with a new light of fury where he was bent over. “You're the guy she replaced me with, aren't you?”

  “She didn't replace you,” I said quietly, shooting a look at Leah, trying to tell if she was alright. From what I could see, her lips were slippery with blood, breathing heavier than any of us. “She left you, don't you get that?”

  “Shut up,” he snarled, standing quickly, shoulders hunched, hands raised. Adrenalin kept me moving, turned my senses on. I'd never fought anyone, this side of me was one I had never wanted to embrace. But that man, someone who'd dared to hurt the person I cared so much about, he was ready for more.

  I had no choice.

  Owen rushed at me, knocking us into the wall. Over the sound of our shouts, I thought I heard Leah crying out. I can't lose, I'm not going to give up. He hit me in the side, my stomach curdling, threatening to make me sick. I ignored it, buried the sensation down, my fist slamming into his cheek. That stunned him, his grip going slack.

  Taking the momentum, I pushed him off of me, straddling him on the rug. My knuckles came down, thudding into his nose, a crackling sound that made me ill.

  He was bleeding, my hand raw from the contact. Kneeling on him, watching him breathe, his eyes closed, I wondered if that had been enough. “Leah,” I said, reaching into my pocket, “Leah, I need you to call the
police. Leah?”

  She was silent, it stole the brief rush of success from me, tore at my heart. Scrambling off of Owen, I crouched beside the young woman, gripping her shoulders fiercely. “Leah, hey, listen to me. Leah!”

  There was no reaction, her throat was puffy, marked with the dark prints and blossoms of broken blood vessels where Owen had choked her. Placing my ear to her chest, I heard her heart thudding, felt her breathing weakly. She was alive, but her lack of response was terrifying me. With red stained fingers, I dug for my phone, not finding it. No, no, where...

  I'd left it in my room in my hurry to get here.

  Yelling in despair, on the verge of frustrated, hopeless tears, I crawled over to Owen's body, desperately searching him for a phone. My fingers found one, relief making me shudder, laugh. His hand moved, gripping my wrist, startling me from my reverie.

  I almost slapped him away, but his cough was weak, those eyes wet, serious, as he stared up at me. “You're wasting your time,” he muttered.

  “No,” I snapped, wrenching away from him, flipping the phone open. “She'll be fine, I'm calling for help.”

  “That's not what I mean,” Owen mumbled, struggling to speak, grimacing through the pain. I realized how badly I had injured him, yet there was little time to wallow in any guilt. “I'm warning you, don't bother. She's a waste of your time. That girl, she's already beyond broken.”

  “Because you messed her up,” I hissed through my teeth, dialing quickly for 911.

  Owen chuckled, strangely calm. “No,” he whispered, licking the blood smudged on his lips. “She was broken way before I ever got to her.” He shut his eyes, chest heaving, no more words coming from that busted mouth.

  Crawling back to Leah, I touched her forehead, brushed her hair away. The number rang, I knew the operator would answer soon. I sat there among two injured people, one I had been the cause of, and the other...

  I was not the cause of her wounds. He's responsible for his actions, not me, not Leah. Especially not Leah.

  What Owen had said, I didn't want to seriously consider it for even a second. I felt her pulse under my fingers, listened to every single one of her labored breaths.

  Maybe Owen was right, there was a strong chance Leah would be carrying the burden of her rough life on heavy shoulders, letting it drag her down, no matter what I did to try and change it.

  It doesn't matter, though. Leah, she means too much to me, why would I care if she was perfect or not?

  I wanted her, no matter what, broken pieces and more.

  -Leah's Epilogue-

  Black, inky thick cotton. That's what my head felt like, that was what was keeping me buried deep in a world of lucid silence. Voices came and went, faces I should have recognized.

  I was positive I was dreaming, especially when that sweet, caramel rich tone promised me I'd be fine, pleaded with me to wake up. Wake up? No, it's safe here. He can't hurt me here.

  Angry eyes, cold fire that set my nerves on edge, made me want to run forever and never stop. His hands reached, stealing my breath, taking me further down into the world of darkness. This place wasn't safe either, my dreams were no sanctuary.

  Was I safe anywhere?

  Again, that voice pleaded with me, tickled my senses from a distance. I thought, if I could open my eyes, I'd see what I'd been searching for. They aren't the same person, this dangerous anger, that isn't him.

  Something warm touched me, I reached for it, grasped with invisible fingers for something to hold onto.

  I want to let you in, I do. Please, just get me out.

  His words, familiar, tugged me from my slumber. As I came to, waking from those strange, suffocating dreams that I was sure would always haunt me, I felt firm pressure on my hand. My lashes fluttered, bleary, drained, yet they moved out of the way just enough for me to see the fingers linked tightly with my own. Our hands rested beside my cheek on a white pillow, so pure and sanitary in its blinding lack of color.

  “Hey,” I croaked, turning to see the concerned eyes, the welcoming smile, of Deacon Day. He sat beside me on a chair, looking as pale as the pillow.

  “Hey,” he whispered back, reaching out to brush the hair from my forehead. “How do you feel?”

  Wincing, my body screamed at me as I shifted. Everything ached, and as I looked around, saw I was in a hospital bed, my memory slammed into me so sharply I groaned.

  That's right, Owen. He found me... he... Thinking of how he had held me down, I reached up to touch my face, brushing my swollen lip, my tender throat. “I feel pretty terrible,” I admitted softly.

  Deacon didn't seem capable of blinking, he only stared at me, mouth shifting from frown to smile, again and again.

  “What, what is it?” I asked, feeling his hand squeeze mine hard.

  “Nothing, I'm just—Leah, god, I was so worried.” Before me, he crumbled, burying his face in the pillow beside me, hunching over my bed as he shook. He was crying, silent tears that I felt through our touch.

  Sitting up carefully, my cheek pressed to the side of his head, feeling his hair, his stubble, wondering how long he had been here. His cinnamon scent filled me with delight, but the sound of his emotional breakdown scared me. Hugging him closer, I released his hand, placing my fingertips on his upper back. “Deacon, shh, relax, I'm fine. Everything is fine, really.”

  “I know.” He was muffled, hard to hear. “I know, I know.”

  “Stop,” I said nervously, trying to nudge his head up so I could see his face. “Please, I'm sorry I put you through this, I'm so sorry Deacon, please...”

  He laughed, startling me. Leaning back, his nose inches from my own, I watched the young southern man rub the streaks of water from the corners of his eyes. His teeth were showing with his surprised smile. “Seriously, Leah, every time. You're even apologizing for this?”

  Opening my mouth, I went to say more, but halted myself. It would only have been another apology. His palms found my cheeks, tenderly, he pressed his soft lips to my temple. I understood he was avoiding my mouth, I could feel the cut there, but I didn't care.

  Curling my hands into his hair, enjoying the rich sensation, I forced him back to me, tasted his lips, felt the dull burn of the wounds. Deacon indulged me a moment, then pulled away, holding my wrists to keep me at bay. “You should be careful, you need to take it easy.”

  “That's not what I need,” I mumbled, flushing with a rush of emotions for the man beside me. It almost pulled him in, too, I could see his reaction, how he inhaled sharply. I ruined it when I moved to lean closer, grimacing at the sharp pain in my shoulder. “Ah, dammit.”

  “I told you,” he scolded, smiling crookedly.

  Sighing, my body slumped into the mattress, eyes shutting tightly. Behind my lids, the blackness scared me, reminding me too well of my strange dreams. Blinking, my gaze flowed back to him curiously. “What happened to me?”

  “You don't remember?” His hesitance was palatable.

  “I remember some stuff,” I admitted, not wanting to delve too deep. “I remember him showing up... he knocked, I actually thought it was you.” My laugh was cynical, uneasy. “Vanessa answered, though, not knowing who it was.”

  “Why didn't you tell her to shut it on him when you realized it was Owen?”

  “Why would I have done that?” I asked, feeling drained by the recollection. “How could I have even suspected he was going to do anything? It was confusing, but at the time, I wasn't—there was no reason to think he'd go this far.”

  Deacon said nothing, he only reached for my hand again. Giving him a tiny smile, my chest filled with air, my breathing calming before I pressed on. “Then I remember Vanessa leaving, she was on her way to work. I think she knew something was weird, I could see it in her face.”

  “She called me,” he said, “I think right as she was leaving, even. She was actually pretty freaked out.”

  Nodding, I lifted my free arm, turning it and studying the bruises. From when he grabbed me, screamed at me. “He
thought I would forgive him for everything, said he had come all this way to apologize and make it up to me.”

  “How did he even find you?”

  “I asked him that... it was actually a stupid mistake on my part that led him to Vanessa's.” The reality of how it had happened made me blush with shame, a hard twist to my confidence. “Stupidly, I put her down as the return address when I mailed the phone back.”

  “Hey,” he murmured, lowering his eyebrows drastically. “Stop that, you aren't stupid. It was just a mistake.”

  “A mistake,” I repeated, the memory of Owen's eyes, narrowed and hard, burned in my mind. “That wasn't my last mistake. When I said we were through, that I had moved on, that was when...”

  “You don't need to relive it,” Deacon whispered, brushing his fingers over my hair, trying to comfort me.

  I'll be reliving it in my nightmares for some time.

  “Alright,” I nodded. “The rest is blurry, anyway. Did he—where did he end up?”

  “The cops took him away, when the ambulance came. They took a statement from me, but they were waiting for you to wake up to talk to you. You won't have to worry about Owen anymore.”

  It was hard for me to believe that. If he was going to be charged with anything, wouldn't I need to testify? Was this all truly over? “I remember thinking I was going to die.” My blunt admission made him flinch, so I regretted it immediately. “I thought that, I mean, until I heard your voice.” Looking into his gold-green eyes, deciding they really were both colors, my heart thumped. “Deacon, you saved me. You saved my life.”

  “Does that surprise you?” He asked, an attempt to break the tension. I wouldn't let him, my mouth was a calm, thoughtful line.

  “No, actually. It suits you, if you ask me.”

  Watching him blush was a nice change, it made me want to taste his lips again, to be held close despite the pain. The knock on the door sent a jolt up my spine, both of us pulling away, turning to witness Vanessa and Tim entering.

  “Leah!” She cried, her fingers lifting to her mouth. I was surprised as well, but only because I had seen where her palm had been just seconds before. She was holding Tim's hand. In a flurry of limbs, she came to my bedside, squeezing in beside Deacon to get close. “Oh god, are you alright, how do you feel?”